A Brother's Devotion
by chidoriprime
Summary: Everyone knows that Noble Six is a deadly soilder. But nobody knows the exact reason for WHY he fights...until now. Slight AU story and possible OOC moments in the future.
1. Prologue: Family Matters

_This is the first story I have ever written, so please go easy on me. Constructive criticism from writers who have been doing this longer than me would be greatly appreciated. _

_I do not own either Halo Reach or Valkyria Chronicles III; they belong to Bungie and Sega respectively. _

_This story is set one year before Valkyria Chronicles III and three days before the start of Halo: Reach. _

Anniversary

How long had it been since he had walked down this road? Twelve years, perhaps? A long time for most, but for any SPARTAN time seemed to have no noticeable markers, no point of reference. For them, the only time any of them bothered to take notice of was the operational length of a single mission, or just the periods between the endless numbers of those missions. Beyond that, they either didn't notice time's passage or didn't care. It was the same for all of them. It did not matter to them.

This was true for all SPARTANs.

All of them, except one. One who did care how much time it took in-between HIS mission.

He always came in secret, and always on that exact day of every year. A single Pelican and the cover of night, that was all he ever needed to come and visit. Walking through the tangled thickets of the shadow-shrouded pines, taking the least travelled paths through the mountainous terrain, never stopping until he came over the hill and beheld the lights of the small town nestled in-between the arms of the mountain chain like a newborn cradled in its mother's arms. He never stopped to admire the view, for he had no time.

Time… time he was always painfully aware of. Because no matter how many times he had managed to come back, time would not let him stay here, uncaring of how much he longed to do so.

Down the hill, cutting across the open fields, through the sleepy streets with their stony tiles, and past the houses that stood on either side, their occupants dreaming and unaware of the stranger in their midst, moving quickly and without a sound toward the house at the very edge of the little village, tucked away behind a screen of hedges and willows.

It was small, with cream colored walls chocked with green ivy and small windows that barely let in any of the meger sunlight that did manage to sneak in through the thick branches of the bordering trees. Old stone tiles, covered by a thin carpet of moss, seemed to blend into the blackness of the night. Even if he couldn't see it clearly, past vists reminded him that there was a small garden by the foot of the door with a variety of roses in colorful bouquets. Their scent drifted across the street to where he was standing, filling his senses with the flower's sweet perfume.

Roses. They were still her favorite things to grow, even after all these years.

Here, by the far side of the little paved road, he always came to a stop. Camouflaged both by the black of night and by the color of his armor, the Spartan would stand there, observing through the windows of the home.

His conditions stated that he was only to have contact if she was asleep. If not, then he was to immediately return to the Sometimes when he came, there would be a light on somewhere in the house, alerting him to the fact that she was still awake. When that was the case, he would have no choice but to turn and sadly take his leave.

But tonight, nothing seemed to stir. All was quiet and still. Whenever this was the case, he would cross the road, walk up to the door, find the spare key hidden under the rug, and unlock the door. He would slowly edge the old door open, wincing if it happened to make a loud creak, waiting in case the occupant of the little home had woken, close the door and stand in the living room careful to make sure that the added weight of the heavy MJOLNIR armor he was forced to wear would not make the floorboards creak. He would make his way toward the master bedroom in the house, softly open the door, and peer inside.

And there she was, lying curled up on her side like she always was when she slept, one arm tucked under her head, her long silken hair cascading across her shoulders and the white bed sheets. The Spartan never sat down, but kneeled at the side of the bed facing the front of the young woman's sleeping form. As quietly as he could, the super-solider would remove the helmet encasing his head and set it quietly beside him.

If someone could have looked at the two of them then and now, they would be astonished by how similar they looked like each other. They were alike in many ways. Both possessed the same two-toned red and silver hair color, though the red in the man's hair was slightly darker and the silver in his hair was shorter in length. If one could have looked both of them in the eyes, they would have been startled to see that both shared the same shade of blood-red irises. Both were slender in body, though the man was more slightly built and was an inch or two taller than her, even without the added size of the man's armor. The man looked like his was about the same age as the woman, in spite of the fact that he was only older than her by a year. All in all, you could have thought that they were siblings.

Siblings. A sister who thought that she was the only member of her family to survive a terrible accident, and a brother forced to fight a war he never wanted to be a part of, forbidden to make his existence known by those who had taken him from his family and his world.

Every time he came the man would remain kneeling there at the front of the bed, just content to gaze at the sleeping girl, his younger sister, dreaming whatever it was she was dreaming about, with the sound of her breathing the only thing breaking the stillness of the night. He would always wait for as long as he could afford, brushing back the hair behind her ear when it drifted in front of her face sometimes or cautiously reach out to intertwine his fingers in her own , holding her hand as gently as possible so as not to disturb her. As much as he treasured these precious moments, all too soon came the time when he could no longer stay and had to leave.

As the young man, once known by his family in the past as Peter Marcellis, now known only as Spartan- B312 to his superiors in the United Nations Space Command and later Noble Six by his new teammates on Reach, stood up away from the bed of his only sister Riela Marcellis, resident of the Principality of Gallia, he tried to fight back the tears that always came with his departure.

Leaning down, he gently kissed Riela's forehead, before whispering into her ear, "Dream in peace, dear little sister, and keep on living for me. I promise to always stand by you in spirit. And as long as I'm here, I'll make sure that you shall never have to look up at the stars in fear, but gaze upon them in wonder."


	2. Prologue 2: Fated Orders

New Orders

The crew always left him alone, less out of the fact that he was a SPARTAN and more out of consideration for his privacy. They all knew what the purpose of these yearly trips to the undocumented and classified world below were for; despite the fact that the men and women aboard were little more than caretakers on these trips they all could not help but feel sympathy and pity for the man.

He was always quiet for days after he came back onboard. After docking with the ONI-operated destroyer that had brought him to the world where Gallia was, the Spartan III would find his way back to his quarters and sit on his bed, head down and staring at the floor.

'_God how I hate this',_ he thought to himself, _'Even though I agreed to this, it's always unbearable coming back. Riela, I miss you. I miss all of you. I miss Mom and Dad and Grandmother. I still miss you all, even after 16 years of being separated from you. But I have to keep doing this,' _Peter-B312 looked up. _'Even though it still hurts that I have to stay away, I have to keep doing my part in this hidden war. Until we end it, until I know that Riela and the rest of our world will be safe from the Covenant. I will keep fighting, and maybe when this is all over, I'll finally be able to come back home.'_

A buzz from the com-unit on his desk interrupted Peter's thoughts. Standing up and walking over, Peter brought up the notice that was calling for his attention.

The video screen that popped up displayed an Army officer wearing the rank emblems of a Colonel. "Ah, Peter. Glad I caught you in time."

"Colonel Holland." exclaimed Peter as he saluted. "To what do I owe the pleasure Sir?"

Holland chuckled. "Come on now, Peter. You know you don't have to act so formal towards me over a closed channel, especially when the man you're talking to happens to be an old friend."

Peter couldn't help but smile a little. "Sorry about that Urban. I didn't mean to forget, I've just got…' he paused, sighing, "...a lot on my mind today. It's been a little rough for me at the moment."

Holland looked out at the Spartan, understanding in his eyes. "So you came back again."

"Yes Si… I mean, yeah" Peter replied, looking dejected. "Ten years to the day I was taken from Gallia and my only remaining family." An uncomfortable silence followed.

Holland tried to break it. "So, uh… how is she? Last I heard from you, Riela was just getting into a community college outside of your old home town."

"She's fine." Peter replied. "From what I could tell, she's been doing okay." Peter sighed again, shaking his head but smiling.

"Riela is starting to look more and more like our mother as the years go by. She's been living in her own house close to Greenwood, but Grandmother comes to check in on her from time to time." He frowned."It still seems like nobody really wants to talk to her. All because of …" He rubbed a strand of his red-and-silver hair between his fingers. "People just don't seem to want to get to know the gentle and sweet girl behind the strange hair and eyes." "

I don't know" "Holland said, trying to cheer up his melancholy young friend. "I always thought that the hair and eyes brought some kind of mysterious aura about Riela. A lot of guys tend to like mystery. Maybe most of the people you're talking about happen to be young men too dumb-struck and enchanted by her beauty to say anything."

"Or maybe" Holland teased, chuckling. "They already know that she might have an overprotective superhuman of a big brother hiding in the shadows, waiting to beat any guy to within an inch of his afterlife if they so much as looks at her funny."

"Ha-ha, I think it's more likely the first one, but I have to admit, I like your take on things, Holland. Makes me think that the big scary brother idea will keep anyone bad away from her. Though it's still not quite the same as actually being there scaring them myself."

"Hey. Chin up. It may take awhile, but have faith. We will win this war. And when the time comes, I'm sure ONI will let you come home. And then you can frighten Riela's hopeful suitors to your heart's content."

"I always pray, Urban," the SPARTAN lieutenant laughed. Peter than looked Holland square in the eyes. "But this isn't why you called me at this hour, is it Sir?"

"No," Holland sighed heavily, "I'm afraid not. Peter, I called because I've got new orders, straight from High Command. You're being reassigned to Reach."

"Reach, sir?" Peter asked, tensing. "I wasn't aware that my "talents" would be required in the Inner Colonies so soon, and on Reach of all places. Has something happened?"

"In a way, though it's not as bad as you think, at least for you personally." Holland said. "A few months ago, one of our SPARTAN III special operation units lost a member during an operation to take out a Covenant battlecruiser down on Fumirole. The team is down in combat capability, and I want to rectify that as soon as possible. So, you're filling in for their missing member. Your unique skill sets should get them back up to full fighting strength."

"I see," Peter mused, his SPARTAN mindset kicking in, "When do I leave for Reach Colonel?"

"Once you get to the nearest military dock, a Prowler will be waiting to take you to Reach. Once you get there, report to Commander Carter, he's the squad leader for Noble Team. Keep in mind; once you get there, you will need to keep on your toes. I've been getting strange reports out here, so there's no telling what you're going to find. And Peter, please try to keep your private hunts to the absolute minimum; your new commander likes his squad working as a team, and I know he wouldn't appreciate it if you took off alone."

"Understood Sir."

"Very good. Well than, _Noble Six, _you're dismissed. I wish you good luck. Holland out."

Noble Six ended the transmission. He then pulled out a necklace that he always wore with his dog tags. Attached to the leather string was a small blue crystal that glowed slightly. When they were still little, Riela had made it for him and giving it to him just before his 'death.' It was the only thing ONI had let him keep with him when he had been taken from Gallia. The ragnite shard, though small, had enough radiance from within to cast a blue light over his face. "Someday sis," he whispered, "I'll come back to Gallia. And I'll finally be able to tell you everything. I just pray that day will come soon."

It would be three days before he could get to Reach.

He had a lot of things to do before then.


	3. Lone Wolf

Chapter One: Lone Wolf

"Gahhhhh!"

Six woke up, violently gasping for air.

With a pained groan, Noble Six pulled himself upright, slowly easing himself into a sitting position from where he had been laying.

"What… what's going on? Where am I?" Still feeling dizzy, Six cast a groggy eye around to gauge his surroundings. "This… doesn't look like the outskirts of the shipyard. And what happened to the Elites I was fighting?"

The surroundings offered Noble Six some clues, but they made no sense to him at all. He was currently sitting in the middle of a forest clearing, when the last memory he had was of fighting in damaged dock works and on a dusty hill filled with ruined buildings crawling with Covenant hunter/killer teams.

'_I was nowhere near anything remotely close to a forest.' _For a moment he did consider the possibility that he had somehow managed to shake off his pursuers and blacked out afterwards, but the rest of the clues in both the sky and the clearing had thrown him for a complete loop.

For one, the sky above his head was defiantly NOT the one over Reach. The massive gas giant was missing, there was only one moon, and the choking ash and vapor from the Covenant's glassing operation had disappeared. _'It doesn't sound possible,' _he mused, _'but it looks like I'm on a completely different planet.' _

That train of thought was further supported by the other object in the clearing with him. The object was a large, battered-looking metal pod, with the hatch lying a few feet away resting on some crushed bushes. It was an Orbital Drop pod, still warm from its harsh descent through the planet's atmosphere.

'_Orbital Drop pods are ship-based, which means that I was somehow taken aboard a UNSC vessel. Seems crazy, but maybe the Pillar of Autumn wasn't the last ship to evacuate after all.'_

As crazy as it sounded, Noble Six had to admit the likely possibility that he had somehow been rescued, taken aboard a ship, and then launched toward this planet inside the pod.

But as always with questions, once one had been answered, more came struggling to the surface; if he HAD been recovered by another ship…then WHERE was IT? Why was he not aboard it right now and was instead currently standing in an unknown location on a planet that was who knew where in UNSC space. Had they come under attack and decided to jump ship? Did they crash? Were there survivors nearby that needed to be located?

And even more puzzling, how on Earth had his armor been repaired in the time he was out? He was sure the armor had been damaged in the last fight with the Elites and he was more than positive that he had been badly injured in the process, but now everything was fixed. Even his helmet with the broken visor had been replaced with a brand new one; the wounds to his body had also healed.

'_Too many questions and not enough time,' _Six thought _'Mabye if I find any others they can tell me. Right now though I need to salvage what I can from the pod. Who knows how long it's going to take until help comes, if it ever does. Food is going to be a concern and if the Covenant ends up showing their faces then I'll need…wait a minute, what was that noise?' _

Noble Six strained his heighted senses, hoping the sound would repeat itself. _'There! That sounds like small arms fire. So this planet is either an inhabited UNSC world…or maybe some of the crewmembers that picked me up are in a firefight with Covenant.' _

He needed a weapon before he could investigate. Thankfully someone had decided to pack his drop pod with some weapons, along with the needed ammunition. _'Probably thought a SPARTAN would make better use of these in this kind of situation,' _he thought grimly. Everything had stayed strapped down inside the pod when it crashed so it took little time for Six to rummage around and retrieve a M6G Magnum, the MA37 assault rifle and the M392 Designated Marksman Rifle (DMR). While not having as powerful a scope as a sniper rifle, the DMR would give Six an effective means to scout out the battle ahead and also let him take out anything he might encounter from a distance. After adding four frag grenades to his gear, Six set out toward the fight, using his superior hearing to home in on the exact location.

_A/N: So this is the official start of my story, as the first two were prologue chapters. If you guys have something you think I should add in here please PM me. _


	4. Wrath of the Unknown

_Please note, I do not own either the Halo series or the Valkyria Chronicles series; Halo belongs to 343 Industries while Valkyria Chronicles belongs to Sega._

**Chapter Two: Wrath of the Unknown**

Six came upon the town an hour later. Crouching in a low ditch, Noble Six could see the flashes from multiple firearms and the sharp reports of gunfire ringing out from the buildings. "Doesn't look like Covenant after all," Six mused "but for some reason I don't think it's from the UNSC either. But I can't see much, so there's no way to be absolutely sure." Hoping to get a better understanding of the battle, Noble Six tried to turn on the night vision in his new helmet, hoping that it was still working after whatever had happened to him. His fears were dispelled; luck was apparently on his side tonight as his HUD changed to a green hue, bringing the dim surroundings into sharp focus. Shouldering the DMR, Six took a look through the scope.

The town in front of him looked like it had been built in a European style, and a rather old one at that. Fire and thick black smoke choked the area as bright flashes of light lit up the streets of the town. Six could see two figures huddled behind sandbags and taking pot shots at whoever was shooting at them from the opposite end of the street. One was using a rifle while another was manhandling some sort of shield and a strange wrench type device, using the shield to hide from some of the shots being fired at them both. Six shifted his aim to peer further down the street to get a better look of the battlefield. One thing he had quickly noticed was that while some of the shots were aimed at the figures behind the sandbag, the majority of fire was being directed off to the left-hand side of the street facing him. It was possible that it was suppressive fire for pining down another group.

"Alright, let's see who the unlucky bastard's are," murmured the SPARTAN III as his sight through the DMR's scope rested on an alleyway about halfway up the street.

What he saw left him reeling in stunned anger and disbelief as he swore, "What the **HELL!?**"

Inside the alley was a terrified looking group of men, women and children, all huddled in each other's arms and trying desperately to keep as far back from the murderous barrage being thrown their way. Six's rage-addled brain barely registered that the people all had the same hair color, an odd mix of both blue and black with the blue being the more dominant of the two. It was a strange color, yet it was somehow pretty to look at, and for some reason that escaped him, oddly familiar.

However, all the enraged SPARTAN could think about at that point was the undeniable fact that the members of the opposing aggressive party on this battle fiend were deliberately targeting what appeared to be innocent unarmed civilians with very clear intentions to kill. Realizing that the enemy soldiers (and yes, he had now classified the would-be killers as the enemy) would soon be able to push past the protective fire of the ones by the sandbags and into the alley, and past the point of worrying about forming a more cautious plan to deal with the enemy, Six tensed his whole body and readied himself to push his armor and augmentations to their absolute limit. '_**I don't care what they're motivations are**__,_' Six snarled inside his head as his whole body coiled in preparation, '_**but**_ _**to me, the act of murdering civilians is BEYOND UNFORGIABLE!**_'

XXXX

"Damn it, this isn't good," Deit mumbled angrily as he watched the Imperial shocktroopers edge closer and closer toward the Darcsen refugees despite his and Amy's best efforts to keep them back. "We can't keep this many back by ourselves. Amy, get in touch with Alfons, tell him that we've got Darcsen civilians in trouble and we need backup here pronto!"

The young blond headed girl shook her head in despair. "I can't Deit! One of the Imperials shot our radio to pieces; I couldn't get in touch with any of the others even if I wanted to! Besides, you know everyone else is having the same problems we are trying to get all of the townspeople evacuated, so…"

Before Amy could finish, one of the attacking Imperials pulled the pin on one of his grenades and tossed it toward them. It bounced once on the pavement, and then rolled to a complete stop… right in front of Amy.

"Oh…"

"Amy!"

Before the frozen girl even could even try to move, Deit had grabbed her by the waist and thrown her a few feet behind him before slamming his Mechanic's shield between themselves and the grenade before it detonated in a blinding flash. The Darcsen grit his teeth painfully as the shockwave vibrated through the expanded plates of his shield before shrapnel finally pelted it.

Barely a second had passed before Deit looked franticly over his shoulder to check on Amy. "Hey, are you all right!?"

"U-um, yes, I'm all right… I think. My ears really hurt though." Upon hearing her, Deit had sighed in relief. "Oh, I'm glad. I got worried there for a second." Ignoring Amy's sudden blush at those words, his features hardened again. "Well then, if that's all, then I suggest that we get back to…shit, no!"

Startled by the Darcsen's choice of words, Amy followed Deit's stricken gaze up the street toward… "Oh no!" she cried out.

When Deit had protected Amy from the blast, the shock troopers had used the distraction to quickly move forward; there were already two of them with weapons raised and ready to shoot into the alley. There was nothing stopping either of them from reaching toward the triggers and…

Before Amy could scream out in horror, she felt something massive rush past her at blinding speed as it cleared the sandbag wall and a second later clutched her already throbbing ears as whoever was it fired at the Imperials standing at the entrance of the alley, immediately dropping both from devastating headshots. To the people in the alley, it was like both of the shock trooper's heads had simply _ceased to exist_ before their bodies had crumpled to the ground. Not finished, the giant being continued to dash forward, extended an arm, and clothes lined a surprised soldier into unconsciousness before pivoting and slamming the back of its still closed fist into the face of another, shattering the unfortunate man's nose along with a good portion of his face. In the same motion, he aimed the rifle in one hand and fired three times, shooting one Imp in the gut and another two in the heart. As the Imperials fell to the ground either groaning or dead and he brought the gun back to his shoulder, he turned to look back at Amy and Deit. A flash from an overhead flare illuminated the street, and all present got a good look at the man in front of them.

That is, if Deit and Amy Apple could even remotely call what was standing in front of them a man: he was a towering monstrosity, easily 7 feet tall and clad in dark grey armor that almost blended completely into the night. Cradled in his arms was a strange-looking rifle, the likes of which the both of them had never seen before. Another rifle was attached to his back, clinging to the metal plating on his back despite the apparent lack of a shoulder strap. A pistol secured on his right hip, an oddly curved yet wicked-looking knife in a sheath on his left shoulder, and four grenades completed his outfit, turning the giant into a literal arsenal of walking chaos. What scared Amy the most, however, was his face. Not that she could see it, as he was wearing a helmet that completely encased his entire head and hid his face from view. But in place of his face was a metallic colored face plate that seemed to reflect everything in the light like a mirror, from the incredulous looks of shock on the Imperial's faces, to Deit and Amy's own.

'_That mask," _Amy thought fearfully, _'it's almost like its reflecting my very soul back at me, judging me and my past sins. Looking at me, I almost think he's trying to decide if I'm worthy of continuing to live, like some kind of avenging angel. By the holy Valkrur, what in Gallia __**IS **__he!?'_

Deit had similar thoughts. Though past tragedies had left him skeptical of things like a higher power, he could not deny the fact that the thing in front of him seemed to radiate a power that seemed not of the mortal realm.

And then he did something that really frightened them both.

Once the initial shock of the stranger's sneak attack had worn off, the remaining Imperials had brought all of their weapons to bear on him. Deit had shaken himself from his stupor and shouted. "Get into cover, you idiot! You're going to get killed!"

"Please move!" Amy called out, reaching for the man in a vain attempt to urge him to move. Gunfire erupted from everywhere; bullets sped toward him and…

And he just stood there, watching the Imperials impassively as the shots bounced off of him as a bizarre golden light enveloped him, completely protecting him from harm.

As soon as the firing stopped, the giant finally spoke up and addressed the now paralyzed Imperials before it. Its voice sounded calm, yet it was so laced with cold hostility and hot-blooded killing intent that Amy wondered if the thing in front of her wasn't some kind of angel at all, but rather a kind of vengeful demon of death and destruction.

"My turn boys."

And before any could react, Six shot forward at full speed.

Attaching the DMR to his back, Six zeroed in on his first target, a brutish-looking man armed with both a rifle and a massive sword. Seeing the SPARTAN aiming in his direction and in a panic from watching his performance earlier, the Imp dropped his gun to the ground and tried to bring up his sword for a heavy vertical slash, hoping to cut the charging warrior right down the middle. Undaunted, Six just lashed out as the blade descended and, to the shock of all present, caught it between both his hands before it even reached his head.

'_N-no way.' _Deit thought in shock. _'Fencer-class swords have to weigh at least a few dozen pounds, yet he just stopped the thing with his bare hands!' _Both he and Amy looked on in dumbstruck fascination as the SPARTAN started to laugh.

"Jezzus buddy," Six commented to the horror-struck Imp, "think this thing is heavy enough for you?" Without waiting for a reply, he pulled the sword out of the swordsman's grip, grabbed the hilt, swung, and cut him in half. Not finished, Six followed through, letting the momentum of his swing spin him around before launching the hunk of metal from his grip, impaling it on another Imperial. He settled back into a combat stance, now drawing the MA37 and aiming it toward the knot of soldiers, waiting.

"Did you see that Deit?" Amy asked.

"Saw it, yeah," he stammered. "Still working on the believing part."

At that point all hell broke loose amongst the Imperial ranks. Some tried to shoot him down again, others turned tail and fled screaming, while the rest stood rooted in terror unable to move at the sight of the monster before them.

Six spared no one. He moved through the crowd like water, taking hits on his shields and answering back in kind, alternating between bursts of automatic fire, the knife he had taken from the body of his fellow SPARTAN III Emile, and his fists and feet. The cracking of bone, the thud of bodies, and the calls of the injured and dying filled the air and echoed up and down the street, painting a terrible picture of battle for both the Nameless and the Darcsens still huddled in the alleyway, afraid to see what was happening.

When the noise finally died down, one of the braver Darcsens, a teenager, decided to poke his head out of the alley to take a look. What he saw nearly made him question his sanity.

The site was incredible, to say the least. Bullet holes pockmarked the walls and ground, weapons lay scattered, and blood stained the pavement. Here and there, the Darcsen could see bodies spread out on the street in the positions in which they had died, 30 of them in all. Some had been shot, others had been stabbed, and the few still left alive were nursing either broken bones or other various injuries that had been inflicted somewhere on their person. The two Gallians in military uniforms who had tried to protect the group were standing a little ways down the street, mouths open and staring in shock not just at the scene before them, but also at the man who had caused it. As for the man in question, he was scanning the street looking for any remaining targets, eyes not missing a single detail as he swept his rifle back and forth across the street.

"The whole pack of them…" the teenage Darcsen whispered in disbelief. "He took out every Darcsen hunter by himself. All thirty of them."

He stiffened as he saw the giant turn and started to walk back toward the alley the others had been hiding in. The man took one hand off his gun and raised it, signaling that he meant no harm. "Hey kid, you and the others alright?" he asked, and there was genuine concern in his voice. The killing intent from before had completely faded from him.

Though shaken, the teen managed to reply. "Y-yeah, I think so. Everyone is a bit shaken up, but I don't think anyone got hit by the hunters."

Six bristled at the term 'hunters' and cast a disgusted glare at the Imperial injured, but kept his cool. They might have information he could use, so it would not do to bust more heads just yet, though he was already getting a sneaking suspicion of where _exactly _he had landed.

"How many people are with you?"

"There are ten of us. Seven and one family of three."

"Where were you all headed?"

"The town's under attack right now. We heard that some troops from the Army were setting up an evacuation point at the rail yards for civilians. We were on our way there when we got ambushed by those hunters." The teen gestured toward the bodies, than toward Deit and Amy. "Those guys tried to help us, but we all thought that we were going to be killed, or worse." He shuddered.

The Spartan turned to the two. "That true?"

"That's right," the one with blond hair replied. "Our commander sent us out to escort a group that was coming in late. But we ran into the group here right before the Imperials could try to kill them." She sighed, than looked at him and managed a smile. "We thought we were going to fail before you came. I want to thank you for what you did to help."

"Same here." The man next to her spoke up. "They're my country men after all, so you've got my thanks."

"Countrymen?" Six squinted behind his mask. "You know, now that you mention it, you do look a lot like the others. So you're a…?"

"Darcsen." The man huffed, before fixing Six with a glare. "You have a problem with that?"

Six froze. _'Darcsen!?...no, it couldn't be could it?' _"No, I don't actually. Race has never bothered me much nor do I care for any stigma placed on people by others, so stop looking at me like I might shoot you in the back when you aren't looking will ya?"

"Oh…" the man said, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry."

"Hey kid," the Spartan said, turning his attention back toward the teen. "Go tell the rest of your group it's safe for now, but we don't have a lot of time before more show up." Walking back, Six leaned down and picked up an Imperial shield, hefting it and looking it over. "It's going to be a hard run to this evact point you talked about earlier, and I don't want to be caught in the open with no cover for you guys." He turned back to the Nameless. "Will you let me help you out?"

"Oh, well…I mean…" The girl glanced at her squad mate for advice. He nodded. "Well, of course we will! We'd be more than grateful for your help." She pointed at herself. "So that we know each other, I'm Amy Apple. And this is…"

"Number 56."

Seeing Six cock his head to the side, Deit elaborated. "I have a name, but I just go by a number most of the time. Everyone outside of our unit calls us by a number. It's just the normal custom..."

"It's Deit."

"Wha…Amy! Why did you tell him that?!"

"BECAUSE, Deit, he looks like someone who dosen't likes secrets, so it wouldn't be nice to hide something like your name."

"But you said you would…gah!"

'_Strange custom, a name and not a number' _thought Six, _'though not unlike us SPARTANs in a way.' _Filing the tidbit away for later, he asked the two of them, "So introductions aside, how do we get to the rail yard from here."

"It's not too far from here," Amy replied, "A few blocks down and to the right, not hard to miss."

"But by now there's bound to be Imp patrols everywhere. It'll be hard to stay out of sight with a group this size." Deit sighed. "It's not going to be easy at all."

"Hey! What did I say about being gloomy in situations like this?"

"…Think positive thoughts."

"Well you don't sound positive right now, so try a little harder."

"Amy, this isn't the time…"

"Oh come on, please try?"

Six couldn't help but laugh a little as he saw Deit yank his hat down in embarrassment. It was almost like watching a younger sister teasing her older brother in a way. _Younger sister…Riela. _His reflection was broken by the Darcsen teen who had briefly been forgotten for the moment.

"Wait, you want to help us," the youth said, still clearly taken aback by the Spartan's words from before, "but why? Why do you want to help others like me?"

"Because I'm a SPARTAN, kid. It's our job to serve and protect those who may not have the strength to do so themselves, regardless of race or religion."

"A Spartan…" the young man said, rolling the unfamiliar word around on his tongue. Turing, he waved to the Darcsens behind him. "It's okay. We can trust him. He told me he's going to take us to the rail yards, but he says we have to hurry before more hunters come."

As the others came out, the teen faced Six again. "By the way, I never asked…but what's your name?"

Six pondered for a bit, trying to decide how to respond. Finally he said "It's… Peter. Just Peter. And yours?"

"…Zeri" the teen responded. "My name is Zeri. Just Zeri"

"Well than, it's certainly a pleasure to meet you Zeri."

_So the Nameless finally make their debut, and Six is gearing up to deal out a lot of damage on the unfortunate soldiers of the Empire. Stay tuned for more action and please read, comment, review, and spread the word to all fans of both of these amazing games to give my story a try._

_Thank you for reading, and until next time, Ciao! _

_P.S.: By the time I finish writing, I will change the rating of this story to T for teen for all-around Imp bashing._


	5. Fated First Encounters

_A/N: I own nothing from either the Halo series owned by 343 Industries, or anything from Valkyria Chronicles III which is owned by Sega._

Fated First Encounters

"Ha-ha, look at them run," One of the Imperials cackled as he looked at the rail yard with his binoculars. "They're all boxed inside the station, pretty little pigeons just waiting to be plucked. Though, in all honesty that's too much of a compliment for those skunks. Ugh… I think calling those disgusting Dark Hairs just made me gag a little."

"Calm down you idiot," one of his squadmates grumbled. "Did you actually forget about who's across the lines from us already, or did you decide to leave your brain back at the barracks tonight? You even think about trying to cross the courtyard without cover you're going to get shredded by them before you can even blink."

"I know that, but I just can't help it. Here I am, and right in front of me has to be the whole stinking Oil head half of this place, but we're just sitting here doing nothing! This is taking too long; when the hell we get the tank cover we need, I want to kill some Dark Hairs already!"

"They'll get here when they get here and not a minute sooner, so just shut the hell up and sit still, would ya already!"

"What?! Don't you dare tell me to shut up about…!"

"Actually, I agree with him," said a voice out of the darkness, "You really do need to shut up."

Before either of them could react, both felt something massive grab their heads before slamming them together, knocking both out cold. A second later, Noble Six looked back over his shoulder and called out quietly "All clear".

"Well now, you work fast don't you?" Deit said as he and the others stepped out of hiding. "Not even a sound. And I thought Shin was one of the best."

"I do well enough," Peter commented as he quickly dragged the two unconscious Imps behind the door frame of a house out of sight "though a knife would have been faster for this kind of work."

"So why didn't you use it?" Zeri asked, despite feeling queasy just imagining the result.

Peter thumbed over his shoulder. "The guy on the left was making me sick, so I took my time to enjoy giving him a headache."

"I'm awfully glad that you didn't kill him." Amy said "A body might frighten the other refugees, and everyone's already scared as is."

"Hey, we're not as soft as you think we are, "one of the refugees spoke up, the father of the single family in the group. "Don't worry about us. Some of us have seen worse than bodies since this war started."

"Hold on, wait! I wasn't impliying…"

"It's alright, you didn't offend anyone." Zeri reassured Amy as he walked past Six. He bent down and picked up one of the downed Imperial's machine guns, checking it over for any damage from being dropped. "Most of us are already used to people calling us soft, so it doesn't bother us as much, at least not as much as it should."

He spoke the last part under his breath, and only Peter with his heighted hearing picked up on it. A question floated to the surface but he pushed it back down. _'Now's probably not the best time to ask, especially right in the middle of a siege.'_

Instead he looked at the gun that Zeri now cradled in his arms. "You know how to handle that thing?"

"Yes. I opted to study how to use the machine gun in high school, and I took squad leadership classes at the local college here."

"Machine gun and squad training, huh. Sounds like you're planning on heading to one of the academies later in life. Like Lanseal, perhaps?" _'Thank you Holland for teaching me everything about my home world when ONI would not.'_

"Perhaps. But that won't happen anytime soon if I don't survive this war."

"Right."

Noble Six cast one last glance around the street before pulling his MA37 off of his back again. "Alright, we're burning daylight here people. According to those soldiers they're waiting for tank support to come in before they try to move on the rail yard, so we need to book it and link up with the defenders before they show up." He took point and started to jog, the rest of the group trying to keep up.

"But if they bring in tanks," a Darcsen woman said fearfully, "the Imperials will just use them to bulldoze through any barricades keeping them out. It'll be a slaughter."

"Our group is well-equipped for dealing with any tanks that might show up." Deit told her. "Besides the yard isn't the actually evacuation point at all, it's actually the drawbridge. As you know, Borger is the only other town besides Vasel that has its own drawbridge across the river. The Imperials are advancing on this side of the river while the Gallian Regular army still has control of the other side. That bridge is the key to this whole evacuation. Our commander told us his plan is to draw the advancing Imps into the rail yard and distract them long enough so that the civilians can get across the river safely. Once we get the signal that everyone is across we pull the bridge back up…"

"…and deny the Imperials access to the side of town that's still under Gallian control." Six finished, actually impressed with the plan. "This commander of yours sounds like he's got a good sense for small-scale tactics."

"Well Kurt IS good at planning things like that." Amy said, sounding proud of this 'Kurt.' "He always tries to make sure to bring everyone back alive, whatever the mission. Ever since he took control of the 422nd, we haven't lost a single member at all. He sounds pretty cool, right?"

"He does. Sounds like someone I can count on." Six admitted.

XXXX

After that everyone sunk into silence. Deit had fallen to the back of the group to shepherd the few that had fallen behind, leaving just Amy and Six running side by side. At that point Amy decided to ask the question that she had wanted to ask him ever since she first saw him. "So, um, Peter. Do you happen to be a member of the Regular forces? To tell you the truth, I've never seen anything like the armor you're wearing right now. And that thing it did where it created that weird light and deflected the shots from those Darcsen hunters…"

"I've got to stop you right there Amy." Six interrupted "I'm sorry, but I can't really tell you anything about my armor. I would be breaking my contract, and I'd end up getting both you and your squad in a lot of trouble if I did." He slowed down a bit, trying to figure out what to say and how to tread around the fact that he wasn't part of any armed forces in existence, at least none of the ones currently located on THIS planet in particular.

"Look, I don't know how to explain it for right now, but all I can tell you for sure is the fact that I'm NOT with these 'Imperials' that you're fighting. The things they're doing, the people they've hurt, all of it is disgusting to the core. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now that I'm here," Six turned his head to face her fully, conviction in his voice, "but I'm sure as hell not going to sit on the sidelines and permit them to continue killing. You have my word on that."

Amy didn't say anything. What could she say after words like that?

Six rounded the next corner, and while distracted Amy ran right into him as he suddenly screeched to a halt. "Ouch! Peter why did you…"

"I think we might have a problem."

"Huh?"

Six had brought his gun up to bare and was pointing it down the street in front of him. "We've got company. And some of that company looks important enough to warrant a few bodyguards."

"Wha…?"

Confused, Amy peeked around the corner and gasped.

Clustered around an armored car stood a trio of people, all surrounded by half a dozen troops standing guard. Of the three, two had the unmistakable hair of the Darcsen people, while the third person was sitting inside the car hidden from view, with one leg out like they were about to step outside. One of the Darcsens, a teenager a couple years older than Zeri and carrying a massive, ancient-looking red broadsword, was looking at the two of them with wide eyes, clearly startled by their presence. The older one was as surprised as the first but kept it hidden under a face of mild interest, focusing particular attention on Noble Six. _'Dahau and Zig? What's the leader of Calamity Raven and one of his sub-commanders doing in Borger?! _

Dahau was also surprised. _'That girl is one of the Nameless. Right now reports are that Irving's squad is holed up in Borger's rail yards. What is she doing so far away from them?'_ He turned his attention back to the SPARTAN. _'But him I don't recognize. Such strange weapons he's carrying. And the armor is a design I've never seen before. What's he doing with her and what's his relation to the Nameless? A new member perhaps…' _

He was interrupted from his train of thought as the figure in the car spoke up. "What is it? Has something caught your attention, Dahau?"

Dahau smiled slightly. "Oh, something caught my attention all right. But it's something you have to see with your own eyes to believe though."

"Very well."

When Amy had heard the woman in the car speak, she thought that it was Dahau's assistant and his other sub-commander Lydia Agthe. But when she stepped out of the car for the two of them to see, Amy was proven wrong. Dead wrong. "No way." She breathed. "It couldn't be…"

Six also stared at the woman before him in complete disbelief, but his shock was more in reaction to the woman' physical appearence as she stood up and stopped upon seeing him for the first time. _'What the… How in the hell…?" _

Clothed in a black leather outfit that accentuated her hourglass figure, the young woman standing in front of them was striking to behold. However, her body was not the only thing that had captured Six's attention.

Her eyes…were exactly like his sister's and his own; a bright, vibrant red, like a drop of blood against snow. Her hair, though long and flowing like Riela's, was completely silver and without a trace of any other color. Her face was perfectly crafted in a way that would have enchanted most men were it not marred by the slight frown on her lips as she gazed at the SPARTAN, clearly puzzled by his appearance. _'She…looks almost like me and Riela. How is that possible?'_

"I see. You were right Dahau. He's something I had to see to believe." Her voice had an aura of command to it, one that was accustomed to giving orders on the battlefield itself rather than ones from behind a desk. It was a voice of experience. "He certainly looks like a fascinating creature. The armor he wears is something more suitable for a knight of the Empire than for one of Gallia's military."

"You," She spoke, her question aimed directly at Peter. "Identify yourself. Who are you and what business do you have with us?"

Despite being caught off guard, Six regained his senses and was quick to counter back. "Nun-uh, not how it works with me, lady. Since you're the one who spoke up first you give **me** your name and business first. You also look military, if that tone of yours and the fancy sword you've got are any indicator, so you might as well throw your rank in also."

"You watch your mouth, Gallian dog!" one of the guards shouted, raising his rifle and aiming it at the SPARTAN, completely ignorant of its ineffectiveness against him. "How dare you address her in such a …."

"Enough." The woman said, and Six noted with some interest that the man seemed to tremble in fright slightly as he obeyed her order. She turned her attention back to him. "He's the one who has us at gunpoint, so I suppose it's only fair that we do things his way. As for who I am…" She stood there, facing him with her head held high and with a bearing that was worthy of that of a proud warrior. "I am the assistant to His Highness Prince Maximilian, one of the four commanders of the central invasion of Gallia, and currently the commander of the assault on the town of Borger ."

"My name… is Selvaria Bles!"

_So, what do you think of Six's first encounter with Selvaria. Like, dislike? Comment and tell me what you think._

'


	6. Orbit

**Orbit**

Far above the drama currently playing out within the embattled town of Borger, a strange ship hovered motionless in the outer reaches of the planet. Strange for the planet's inhabitants perhaps, but for Peter-B312 the shape would have been the easily recognizable figure of a Phoenix-class colony ship, its blocky frame shadowed by the mass of the world looming over it.

Inside the bridge of the UNSC _Colorado_, a single man stood pacing the deck, hands clasped behind his back and deep in thought. His graying hair and worry-lined face only served to heighten his nervous expression as he turned toward the comms officer. "Any signal from him yet?"

"Negetive, Sir. I'm not picking up any life sign readings or radio chatter from Noble Six. I'm sorry, but the energy wavelengths radiating from the planet's surface are really messing up our long-range communications equipment; being this high up in orbit is scrambling any kind of signals we could be getting from him. Unless we bring the _Colorado _closer to the surface…"

"I know that, but I don't want to risk exposure to the population unless we've got no choice. Boost the power to the array and expand the scans to 500 meters around Noble Six's approximate landing zone. Keep trying to ping him until you get a fix on him."

"Roger that Captain Hernandez."

Jose Hernandez was the commanding officer of the _Colorado,_ one of the last remaining Phoneix-classes still in service in the UNSC Navy. It had originally been slated for decommishing inside Reach's Azord shipyards, but in light of the recent losses sustained at the siege of Sigma Octavus, she had been hastily reactivated and undergone a major overhaul of repairs and rearmament in preparation of a possible assault on Reach, a prediction that had become an all too horrifiying reality. She'd barely managed to escape orbit in Reach's final moments after picking up a high ranking officer, his bodyguard, and a badly wounded SPARTAN from the surface of the doomed world. After placing the man into a cryo-tube, Hernandez had been given the strangest set of orders of his entire military career.

The man rubbed his eyes. "An entire year of playing cat and mouse with the Covenant wolf packs to get to a planet that should not official exist, all for the benefit of a single soldier." The doors behind him hissed open admitting a single person onto the brig. Turning around, Jose frowned slightly as he recognized the man. "Colonel Holland. I sincerely hope to God you know what you've gotten my ship and my crew into."

"I know, Captain Hernandez. I must apologize for making you take such a long detour around the system, but this was unfortunately essential. I cannot stress the importance of this world to both ONI and the rest of HIGHCOM." Holland said. "Precautions had to be taken to ensure its secrecy, and if it weren't for Reach's destruction, we'd have to be following ONI's precautions to the letter, no matter how extreme they are."

"I'll say they would have been extreme." Hernandez replied, and a little of his frustration bled into his words. "'Immediate destruction of all ship-board AI's upon arrival? Armed escort? Threat of execution if protocols are breached in any way, shape or form?' Colonel, I've never seen so many damn regulations regarding the safety of a single planet like this in my entire life. Hell, not even Earth has this kind of paranoid security when it comes to its location. Instead of a straight shot that would take two months, you order us under ONI command to take an alternate route that takes an _entire year _to complete. And after all that you load up one of your injured SPARTANs into a HEV and drop him to the surface to 'let it _heal _him up_?_' Forgive me if I sound a little put out Holland, but all of what you've told me since we've got here sounds completely crazy; this is all beginning to try my patience."

Holland sighed. "I understand completely. But there was no other option. The SPARTAN in question had some..._unique _needs that only this world can provide."

"Which you have failed to elaborate on so far."

"In due time Captain."

Holland gazed out at the planet above them. "…Ten years."

"Pardon?" Hernandez asked.

"It's been ten years to the day that I came here. That day so long ago, my mistakes cost that young man a family he should have had. I couldn't do anything to save them…but I'm not going to give up on him. Not now. Not when he's so close to coming back to her."

Hernandez kept quiet, not quite sure how to respond to the colonel's odd statement.

At that moment the comms officers yelled out, "I've got something! Signals faint, but it's enough for positive ID. It's him!"

"Finally. Launch a Pelican and get him back up here."

_A/N: New chapter. I'm sorry, but lately I've been having more and more difficultly adding on to this story. I've been seriously considering a rewrite. I'm going to wait and see until I can get my hands on the new Valkyria Chronicles 3 Complete Artworks when it comes out so I can have more reference material to work with. I'm glad you guys have kept up with me so far, so thank you, all of you, and send me a lot of PMs to tell me what you think._


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